Dull roots, unripe fruits

Puddle dust, feet in socks

Faces grease in anticipation

Grasses sink into mounds, earth in grey

The world is dead silence, summer is jealous of its death


The Rain

Flood is roaring near

The sleeping brow groans in its slumber

There’s tumult in the sky


The Rain

It slashes leaves, apricots, canes, trees

And doubly drums sounds of

chaotic thundering and uproar lightening


Structures shingle, beats and bends awry

Flowers heads-down, souls in fear

Spring is longed for; how I dare wish to enter

but winter door shuts on my face

Like termites driven out by a collapsed anthill


The Rain

This takes too long to heal

This isn’t pleasant, unannounced

When can we manage another season without Rain

Hearts in anticipation.

Written to meet the Bar in dVerse where we were asked to write one condition or the other on drought or an over-abundance of water/rain.



Love they say is blind

but that doesn’t mean

you must fall at the least step

at least, you should be able to tell

when the terrain is not conducive

so as not to walk straight into a ditch

Relationship can go south

And when bitterness sets in,

You should know anything can happen.